


I Have a Proposition for You

by MyBlackCrimsonRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien genitalia, Canon Compliant, Half-Brothers Shiro & Keith, M/M, Omega!Lance, Omegaverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Season 5, They/Them & She/Her Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Will be bumped up to Explicit come the time for smut, alpha!Lotor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlackCrimsonRose/pseuds/MyBlackCrimsonRose
Summary: “Whyis this so important to you?”Lotor’s attractive—Lance will not deny that. He’s attractive and he’s got thathair, and thatsmell. Makes his knees weak in the morning when he hasn’t yet gathered his wits about him, has yet to steel himself to the scent. “Because depending on your answer I… have a proposition.” And Lance was weak; he’ll put the team before himself, always. Their safety was of his utmost concern, but… he needed this out of his system for two different reasons.





	1. I Have a Proposition for You

**Author's Note:**

> I hate a lot of Omegaverses because of the popular tropes, but as a genderqueer individual I see a lot of promise with it. So I hope my writing is able to convey what I want, what I picture. And yes, I'm using a typical Omega/Alpha pairing cause there's some things I'm still just simply weak to. 
> 
> This is my first time posting for the Voltron fandom, but not my first time writing these characters. I'm extremely nervous about posting it. I've seen some pretty nasty things and I've lost some friends because of anons on tumblr going after Shiro ships. So if I have to change this to "approve before showing comments" then I will. I've done it for another fandom and it works lovely. 
> 
> I want to go ahead and thank my friends on Discord for twisting this rubber arm of mine and telling me to start these two Lancelot fics (you guys will eventually see the other one, but its... kinda a bigger project so I won't post the first chapter until I got at least a good bit of the second chapter started). 
> 
> And of course I want to thank @istehlurvz on twitter/tumblr for finishing my Lancelot commission for this fic before I even finished writing the part for it (and most likely other art to come cause I'm very weak for their art. Please go give them love). 
> 
> Please be kind, and I will give smooches.

Lance learned of a few things outside of the whole Saving The Universe _thing_ —he learnt that humanity wasn’t the only one with the same reproductive characteristics, learnt that all Alteans have the ability to bare children, learnt that sometimes a wave isn’t just a wave, learnt that the moisturizer he’s been using can double as a healing salve, that the food goo could be made decent with only Hunk’s culinary expertise, and of course a number of other things that would pop up from time to time to make him think.

But that first point was a biggie. Who would have thought that Galra keep that same secondary sex characteristics as Humans (and three other species, but Lance doesn’t care about them. Never met _them_ ). And with one of such knowledge of their own biology on board, Lance was going to bite the bullet.

 

Emperor Lotor, newly crowned and not exactly trusted, was a possibility. Lance didn’t trust him, not with the princess and not to choose the galaxy over his own driving force, but for this… this he didn’t need that level of trust. “You take after the Galra part of you, right—that whole secondary sex characteristics?” he blurts out, bayard disengaging after their routine training.

Allura had been the one to suggest a trainer for that new sword of his, and Lance… Lance didn’t want to let down his team. Didn’t want to disadvantage them—needed to be the best for them, if not for himself. Keith wasn’t here to nettle into training him the basics (he wasn’t above asking if it was for the team), and he didn’t want to bring up any more possibly heart wrenching memories with that sword he’s shared with her father if he were to ask Allura, so Lotor was his next choice. The only choice.

“Its considered rude to ask,” the other replies, purple-blue eyes staring heavily. He doesn’t _sound_ insulted, Lance knows what insulted sounds like, _that_ sounded more of a hesitant curiosity more than anything. _Smelt_ more like curiosity and Lance was always better at sniffing out emotions than he let people assume.

“Coran told us that Human and Galra had a similar biology—I’m only curious, man. Not gonna use it against you.” Though he might ask something of him depending on his answer.

They stand, weapons pointed to the floor, and when Lotor steps Lance follows. His broadsword forming after they made a full circle, circling round. Lotor’s gaze heavy as those yellow framed eyes stared, boring into his face. “I do,” he finally answers, gripping his weapon properly. “Though I don’t see why the intrigue.”

Lance hates how good this man looks; how good he smells. Hates the stories his Mama would tell them growing up on how she chased after their Father and declared him her mate by his smell alone—gave him that dream, that dumb hopelessly romantic dream of finding his own like that. Damn it.

“My kind have names for the three classes; Alpha, Beta and Omega. You smell like you’re an Alpha—classically dominate of the three.” Lance licks his lips as Lotor’s eyes narrow, gaze dropping to his lips before breaking away. His whole body prickles, inhaling the other’s scent. “Are you?”

Lotor doesn’t often make the first move in their sparring, but he does now. And it takes Lance’s _everything_ to parry. Their swords clashing between them before the Galra twists away, sword spinning in a way Lance knows is supposed to be distracting and yet he can’t help but watch. His arm is slow to par the next blow, shaking under strain as Lotor _pushes_ , forcing him back. And back, and further back still—shoes sliding against the floor.

“ _Why_ is this so important to you?”

Lotor’s attractive—Lance will not deny that. He’s attractive and he’s got that _hair_ , and that **smell**. Makes his knees weak in the morning when he hasn’t yet gathered his wits about him, has yet to steel himself to the scent. “Because depending on your answer I… have a proposition.” And Lance was weak; he’ll put the team before himself, always. Their safety was of his utmost concern, but… he needed this out of his system for two different reasons.

For one, maybe then he could quit with the intoxicating scent and how it made him want to bury his nose against the other’s neck and _pant_ against it. Drink it in, like it was some beverage.

“I am— **that**. The Galra have slowly lost one of those subclasses—the mediator.” Lance’s translator made that one sound weird. Like a poor Google translate. “They don’t do well with all the influx of quintessence my kind have grown addicted to during my **_Father’s_** rein.” The other steps back, but the flare in his scent remains, washing over Lance like a wave. The weapon hangs low in the other’s hand, inches above the floor. “Why. What difference does it make?”

This leads to Lance’s second reason.

“My heat is in two days… and Alphas tend to be better _equip_ to deal with it.” Heats can trigger ruts, just like the opposite is true. While Betas don’t have to deal with either of those, both can send them into a bit of a lust but even the Betas with the best of stamina have problems with either during those times.

His Dad was a Beta, Mama an Omega. And while they weren’t the most open of parents about the topic of sex, all their children were either Betas and Omegas so there was a matter of knowledge that needed to be shared. And the rest was picked up due to siblings and _exploration_ , and Lance being the type of guy that he is who likes to stick an ear into everyone’s business.

Lotor’s brow is creasing, scent simmering from its early anger with the mention of his father. “Its always easier with a partner,” Lance continues, licking at his bottom lip. Worrying the flesh between his teeth—he knows it’s a submissive gesture, or it could be _seen_ as one for the Galra. And the _interested_ spike in Lotor’s scent proves it. “I don’t want my team to see me in the height of it,” and it’s the truth, “and the only other Alpha onboard currently is Shiro…”

And Lance doesn’t want that; not ‘cause he doesn’t find the man attractive. That man is _wow._ So very wow. But its mostly a mixture now of him not wanting his team to see him in the peek of Heat, and the memory of what Shiro said to him a few weeks back—about not feeling like himself. Shiro doesn’t need to have anything else added to his plate.

“Does your kind not hold their mating sacred—is it not a personal affair?”

Lance tsks, huffing at him. “We had casual sex too—but yes. Sex can have an _emotional_ response,” but that’s what Lance is trying to eliminate. Trying to hit it and quit it. And a part of him knows that its not going to happen like how he wants—there tends to be an emotional connection for awhile _after_ a heat where the two are more sensitive to the other. But it _passes_. It’ll pass. “Its _fine,_ ” Lance stresses, trying to convince them both.

Lotor’s eyes narrow as he steps back, giving them more room between. “There will be a… sensitivity to each other after our coupling.” So it’s the same for Galra then; its nice to hear that its not just Lance and Lotor will be struck weakened by this as well.

“Think it over,” Lance tells him, seeing that comment for what it is. One final warning to change his mind. “Just… let me know before it hits, y’know? I’ll need to warn Hunk how long I’ll be out of duty for.” His last three heats in space were spent in a healing pod, injured—frozen. Lance knows its gonna hit hard this time, and he doesn’t want to go searching for a fight that’ll put him in a condition that he has to spend a fourth heat cycle in a pod. His heats are only every six months, he can _handle_ it.

He just doesn’t want to leave his room in that time; it’ll affect the rest of them from scent alone. And tying in the possibility of forming Voltron and the mind link? Lance didn’t want to see what that would lead to either.

They stand in silence, tension heavy between. Both know this is something big—neither knows the differences that their race introduces, but they know that they’re there. If they do this, if they spend Lance’s heat together, its going to be made aware.

Lotor sighs, running a hand back through his hair pushing it off his shoulder. “I will inform you of my decision later—I need to think.” And its better than what Lance feared. Far better—still a chance.

There was still a chance.

-

Lance was with the rest of the team, in the lounge going over trivial Voltron duties, when the doors slide open and Lotor enters. Its not an uncharacteristic sight to see him about the ship, nor to appear at these meetings that aren’t pressing and can be held in a more comfortable environment (at the table was another place). But its still so _weird_ for Lance to see him outside of the bridge, or their training, or the meals that Allura insist that he shares with them, that Lance can’t help but watch him from the corner of his eye.

Even as he takes a seat in the section of couch beside him.

Normally he sits closer to Allura, she’s friendlier and more inclined to listen to him, and Lance quietly stews and tells himself its because _how dare he assume he deserves her attention_ more so than he wants to tuck himself into that man and nose at his scent.

So when Lance’s gaze shifts to him, brow starting to raise in question its only he who looks to the Galra, and Lotor **nods**. Just the once. For a second Lance’s mind takes it as a Bro Nod, a simple nod of acknowledgement between two dudes being dudes… until he remembers the conversation of yesterday.

His eyes widen, heart skipping, _holy shit._ His mouth parting, falling open. With every tic that had past he had thought the other would turn him down; Lance had thought of how he’d get Hunk to tell his team of the situation when he’d locked and barred himself in his room. Safely locked away from any sensitive noses.

Lance gestured back towards the door the other had just entered through, not even waiting for a reply before he’s standing and vaulting over the back of the couch. “I need to have a word with Lotor,” he tells the group, “we’ll be back—don’t wait up.” He knows someone will ask him later, and he’s already thinking of saying it was a thing that happened during training yesterday. Which was true.

Lotor, without a word, followed.

-

_“I will come to your quarters the night before you’re scheduled to enter your heat,” Lance learned that at least they have that similarity in wording. “It would be better if I’m there before the height of it. You may inform me of any further precarities that you have.”_

_“What about you?” Lance had asked, it was sounding a lot about Lance Lance Lance. But there were two people going to be engaging in this tango, he wanted it to be a give and take._

_Lotor’s nostrils had flared; Lance can tell he’s taking in his scent by how he breathes. Tasting the air with the inhale between his mouth more than sniffing. Can see his pupils widen—he likes it. Liked what he smells, what he tastes. “I will tell you mine then—but I will be **caring for you**_. _It shouldn’t matter.”_

Is it a Galra thing or a Lotor thing? _Lance thought. “Well **I** care. It matters to **me.** ” They’re still close, standing pressed together after Lance had grabbed his arm and reeled him in. “I want to be able to take care of you too.”_

That had been too obvious. He knows that, and hours later as he mulls over the conversation—short, so extremely short—he’s stuck on that last line he gave him. **I want to be able to take care of you too**. He needed to quit him; needed to quit this boy _fast_.

Lance pulled his sleep mask over his eyes, hoping to cut off the last of his lingering thoughts. Tomorrow was his last day of freedom. He needed to stock up.


	2. The Difference in Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a couple more vargas Lance's Heat will be here, but until then it's the fight between logic and feelings. The boys get intimate, and Hunk is left to deal with this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never really had much of a plot thought up when starting this. I had an idea of what classes they all were, that I wanted it to be set after the latest season, and that I wanted it to be something along the lines of "they catch feelings/the feelings never leave and now its worse. What are they going to do about it?" I either think of some plot-line (points mostly that I want to hit) or an abstract idea that I eventually write and it some how takes shape. It seems this is the latter. 
> 
> Also, to make things easier I'm just going to straight up say each Paladin's class::  
> -Omega: Lance  
> -Beta: Pidge & Hunk  
> -Alpha: Shiro & Keith  
> Of course the Galra characters will also be kinda put into this, but I might just write a thing up for their own vocabulary (though translated to something that we understand. Like a shit google translation). 
> 
> Also, because of all the love I'll give you the two social medias you can reach me if you just want to chat or know what I'm up to (but you gotta read to the end notes for it).

Lance was never much of a **Nester**. Sure, he liked the important things close, tucked away under his bed in shoeboxes or in his nightstand, but for the most part they all had their spots. Even when he collected—and Lance _collected._ Mama always said that’s where his nesting instinct went to, that and into the organization of said collection.

He knew where everything was, where he got it and what the story behind it was.

It all had its place.

Even back home, his room had always been the cleanest. Tidy, neat, though cluttered with knickknacks he’s grabbed and brought back home. But his Mama couldn’t get mad at him for it! Everything was neat and tidy, never had to tell Lance to clean his room!

He can smell the other’s confusion as he takes in his room. The lights are dimmed (the closer to his heat that he gets the more the bright lights agitate him), the two pillows and minimal covers on the bed (its called a heat for a reason. Too much pillows and blankets make him feel smothered), and his _collection_.

“You collect,” Lotor states, pointing to the very thing he was noticing. His steps, normally quiet, clunked as he crossed the room. He was giving them distance after Lance let him into his space, getting familiar but not all up in his personal bubble. His body bending, leaning in to take a better look at one of the bright sparkly rocks Lance had nabbed—it was blue, Lance had been the blue paladin at the time, it reminded him of Blue’s purrs in the back of his head when he’d fly.

“Never much of a Nester—siblings and Mama are. Lance McClain is _one of a kind_!” Lance chuckled, cocking his hip and snapping his head with a flair for the dramatics. He knows it’s a little forced, that its not one of his best performances, but something in him is nervous to have Lotor look at his collection. Part of him fears that he won’t like his treasures, won’t accept them.

Won’t accept **him**.

(Not like he cared—its just a one-time thing. Hit it, quit it. Back to saving the Universe!)

Lotor’s hand stills, inches away from the rock. Claws curling back towards his palm, “my kind aren’t known for their Nesting.” He’s sharing, giving Lance a piece in return—something that he has, the only thing he truly has of this moment. Knowledge. Information. “Before Zarkon there were more, with a permanent home world and the established safety, but it was lost. One of the many things The Galra have forgotten.” He turns, hand falling to his side as he regards Lance.

Gaze sweeping over his face in study. “I should have brought you an offer.”

Lance’s cheeks coloured, spreading in a bloom of deep reds. It burned at his ears, his cheeks—even crept underneath his shirt collar. “You don’t have to get me something,” but he’d never say no to a gift. His _first gift from an Alpha_ —sure he was of a different species, and sure it wasn’t like they Bonded, or Mates, or Courting. But _damn_ if that didn’t make his heart race!

 _He could Court you. You wouldn’t say no._ Lance doesn’t listen to that voice—we don’t pay attention to that little voice.

He presses closer, stepping into Lance’s space with a pull of his lips, revealing pearly white teeth. Pointed, inhuman, yet not as terrifying as some of the other Galra Lance had seen. “Are you instructing an _Emperor,”_ Lotor’s eyelids lower, face leaning in close, it made his heart jump. Made his mouth pool, swallow. And the other _knew_ , “to not gift… another?” Was he going to say Omega or his species’ word for it? It was too late to know now.

He licked at his lips, glancing down and away from Lotor’s face. “Well if your Highness is so inclined,” Lance glanced back, voice dipping into a purr, “then I will accept this… _gift_.” He purposely fluttered his eyelashes, “what is it?”

“You need to wait.”

Lance snapped back, hand clutching at his chest. “You don’t even know what you’re getting me!” And the smirk did enough of an answer; Lotor was simply talking out of his ass.

Not that he thought any different!

“You wanted to speak to me before your heat. What of?” A change of topic— _smooth_. But needed. Lance did want to go over a few things, get familiar with Lotor in a private setting. He’s trusting himself in Lotor’s hands, when his mind isn’t completely his own, so he’d like to just… sit with him. Let his subconscious in on this little thing too.

Lance waves him over to follow him to the bed. “Shed that armor, man. Get comfortable. There’s no point in keeping up with formalities.” He flops back onto his bed, tucking his legs in close to his body to leave ample room for the other to sit. Lance, himself, had shed his top layer and socks knowing that in less than six hours he’s most likely going to be tearing it off his body.

The Galra huffs, but complies. Unbuckling his chest piece with clicks and pops until it sits looser around his frame and he pulls it up over his head. Lance notes that he’s got similar looking Kevlar under his suit as the Voltron armor has—must be a universal thing. He sets his armor out of the way before shedding his gauntlets and tossing them onto the growing pile. Its clinical, the way he removes it all, finally unzipping his suit and pushing it down to his waist.

Its going to be a pain taking him out of everything; the guy’s wearing a sleeved shirt still. Why does he need that many layers? Well… okay, it makes sense in combat. But out of combat? Lotor needs some easier clothes to let it all hang out. “You need some more casual clothes,” Lance states, watching him peel the Kevlar lower and having it sit _just so_ on his hips.

“I have a casual attire, though I see not the point to wear it when war hangs heavy.” The bed dips as he sits, the mattress seeming to sigh under his weight. He’s _thick_ , even under all that armor he’s wide. His eyes seeming to look more blue than purple in the light of Lance’s room.

Lance frowns; it sounds like the guy doesn’t do much else but fight and go looking for Altean history. “Sounds like you need a moment of relaxation,” he parts his legs, crossing them so there’s nothing between them. No obvious wall closing off this bonding moment. “I can help with that.”

“Your Heat is enough of a break—” Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Dude, if this goes _right_ it won’t feel anything like a period of relaxation. _I’ll_ be tired and sore and clingy—and most likely emotional. I don’t know about you, but I can guarantee that you’ll feel at least one of those things.”

The Galra huffed, “point taken.”

The room fell silent, and Lance took the time to study him. Lotor’s gaze roaming the room, taking in details that Lance couldn’t even fathom to note—he had once found a dent in the training room floor and then made Lance back up enough into it that it made him slip out of his stance in the middle of one of their sparring matches. How the other had found it was above Lance’s knowledge, but since that moment Lance knows the other is _looking_ for something to use to his advantage.

“I wanted us to get familiar with each other before my heat—its… personal, I know.” Lance started, watching those purple-blue eyes slowly move back to Lance’s face, shifting attention till it was solely on him. Those eyes made goosebumps breakout over the back of his neck; how did he do it? How does a _look_ alone make you feel like you’re the only person they care about at that very moment? “But it’ll make me feel better knowing that you’ll… take care of me.”

He didn’t like how that last part came out, despite it being true.

There was a part of him that wanted a partner that he could hand himself over to in his heat. A part of him wants to trust that they could do everything to not just please him, but state him and the ravenous lust that would envelop him during this time.

But another part of him didn’t want to bother Lotor with this—he would be clingy, needy. Times it all by ten and add the Heat on top of it. Lance knows he’s going to be difficult to deal with, and… what if he couldn’t handle it?

**What if he _left_. **

Lance had the heard stories; those horror stories that are more rumors than truth. Those ‘ _you know somebody who knew somebody who knew an Omega who had their Heat Partner walk out on them’_. He’s heard people say it was a Beta who walked out—which Lance would snort and roll his eyes at. _Totally wouldn’t happen_.

But **still**.

But still.

What if he left?

“I won’t betray the trust you’ve placed in me,” Lotor answers. And Lance’s eyes squint. He sees nothing that would warn him, make him disbelieve these things he says, so Lance will believe him. He’ll speak over the flutter of his heart, already stupid and falling for a former enemy, and go for the logic. “Show me what you’ll like me to do.”

“Kiss me.”

Well, so much for logic. Lance’s heart won out again. _That bastard_ , he thinks, scolding his own fluttering heart as it pumps. And Lance, despite the argument between logic and feeling, does follow through with his words—always a firm believer that once he starts something he’s gotta finish it. He’s already shimmed in close, knees bumping against Lotor’s legs.

“A kiss?”

“Yeah. Y’know, press of your lips to my lips. Maybe some open mouth kissing—tongues, swapping spit.” He shrugs, “it’s a common thing for Humans. Its an intimacy thing.”

Lotor’s head tilts back just slightly, not enough to be any show of submission—Lance has noticed that even when he does show a bodily show of submission his eyes say anything but. Reminds him of a wolf in those Natural Geography photographs; eyes all seeing, all knowing. Wild. “You want to be intimate with me.”

His heart skipped; that was a little too close to truth there. “We’re going to be having sex. Can’t get much more intimate than that.” But kissing was… kissing was _different_. This was different. This was the crush talking, this was the crush wanting to know what his lips taste like. What kind of kisser he was, how his lips would feel pressed against Lance’s. “Do Galra’s have a different thing? Instead of kissing.”

He sounded confused about it.

Lotor fingers tapped against his lap; Lance’s brow raised. “Come.” Oh. Lance huffed, rolling his eyes at the beckon. “Show me what you want while you have your wits about you.” The Paladin shook his head, uncrossing his long legs and shuffling until his could throw his leg over Lotor’s armor clad lap.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Lance said as he settled, slowly easing his weight onto Lotor’s muscular thighs. His hands sitting awkwardly between them, unsure if he should take this as an excuse to touch his hair (feel just how soft it really was).

The answer came with the other leaning in, resting his hands upon Lance’s hips. His nose ghosting against his neck, lips following. It’s a caress, intimate even for humans. And as Lotor’s breath puffs, sliding over his skin and up his neck, nose nudging against his jaw where his scent is sharp and concentrated Lance’s lungs tightened. All oxygen expelling in a loud _whoosh_. Blue eyes widen, fluttering as he blinked dumbly.

“ _This,_ ” the alien emphasised with his lips brushing against Lance’s darker skin, “is the intimacy between the Galra.” The other shared, breath easily fanning against his jaw with every word. Teeth just shy of nipping, teasing. It makes his eyes widen, that first brush of those sharp teeth over his skin, his thighs shake. Quiver as his heart races. “Does your kind do this?”

Purple. Everything was some shade of purple—Lotor’s hair a lilac, his eyes a blue-purple (maybe even a periwinkle), his skin looked almost lavender maybe closer to mauve—it was flooding his senses. Drowning. The former blue paladin was going to _drown._ Drown in this beauty of a man, drown in this _colour_ , drown in these feelings that he didn’t want but damn was he going to have!

“Yeah,” Lance sighs.

“Then you know what happens if I press _just hard enough_ ,” purple-blue eyes staring, looking up at him through light colouring lashes.

Lance wanted to kiss him.

The neck was dangerous—he wanted. Wanted it, but knew better. This was the Heat mixing with those feelings. Always with those feelings. Nasty, thought dissolving feelings.

He took the other’s face in his hands, guiding it from his scent glands. Away from the temptation. “How about that kiss, big boy?” he purred, lips pulling up into a too confidant grin. Smother away the temptation, the thoughts. That quiet little voice clawing in the back of his mind that had steered him down the path of instant gratification far too often and lead to more mistakes.

The Galra huffed, smirking up at Lance from between his hands. “ _‘Show me how the Galra do things, Lotor’_ ” was that supposed to be **Lance?!** He could feel his eyebrow twitch at just the first tone. “‘ _Kiss me Lotor.’”_ It was the smug look more than anything that got to him. “What is it Lance,” he purrs, “a kiss or—”

A kiss.

Lance surged forward, pressing his lips to Lotor’s to silence him. The alien’s body tensed under him, breath puffing out from his nostrils against Lance’s cheek. Lance only kept his eyes closed, adjusted his hold on Lotor’s face and… relaxed.

-

Three things.

-Hunk knew as soon as he met Lance that the guy was an Omega—okay, that was a small lie. Hunk knew thirteen seconds after first meeting Lance that he was an Omega. He’d originally thought the scent was a body spray or something—a mixture of lavender, kiwi and the beach.

But the second sniff made it click, and then the Alpha beside him who’s nostrils _flared_ (the guy had some mighty ripe B.O, okay. Hunk can still remember his scent. One of the worst Alpha smells he’s ever smelt). And **_that_** proved it—bless Hunk’s Omega mothers and their sniffers and the fact it was passed down to him.  

-Hunk knew Lance’s Heat cycles better than _Lance_ knew his Heat cycles. Hunk knew that he missed the last couple of them—Space War and all that. Butts to kick, sometimes even getting their own butts kicked. It happens, its okay. They win when it matters in the end! It’s the War not the battle!

Or something like that.

Point is, when Lance came to him telling him to smooth things over with the rest of the team, Hunk had already been thinking of doing just that. He was a Beta from a family of Omegas (to be fair it was just Hunk and his two Mums, but still), Heats are just a part of the year. You don’t see them for a bit, sometimes they go away, sometimes you gotta go away. In the end everything works out and Hunk gets snuggles cause the three Omegas in his life where big on that.

What he wasn’t expecting was the, “yeah… tell them that Lotor’s spending it with me.” Now **_that_** was not normal. It was just too bad that Lance had made an escape _right after_. The guy was slippery when he wanted to be.

-The final thing was Keith was coming back.

No clue for how long, but he said he was on route and will be staying until his next assignment. And Hunk was _excited!_ The crew, kinda, back together! Its sucky that Lance’s Heat was hitting, but now that it sounds like he’s got a partner for it, it’ll shave off a few days (and Hunk doesn’t want to think much more about it).

The bad thing was going to be explaining the whole thing to the team… with The Blades of Marmora most likely present. Hunk doesn’t know how it is with Galra, but the Alteans will play it off as Biology and doing what you gotta do. But it could be a _whole_ different can of worms for Galra… right?

 

So with those three things out of the way, Hunk is left staring at Pidge as they (or she, Hunk should ask what pronouns they’d prefer. Typically Lance is the one that does it, and Hunk doesn’t even realize until this very moment that he’s going to have to make a point to ask instead of just having Lance tell him if it’s a she/her kinda day or not) tinker. “Sooooooooo,” he starts, looking everywhere but at the green paladin.

“Soooo…?” Pidge mirrors, glancing up at him through their lashes.

“Keith’s coming back,” He starts, pointer fingers tapping against the desktop. The other OG Alpha—double two of the three classes, Hunk prays that neither walk close to Lance’s door and gets a whiff of _that_. There’s a reason why more people have started with suppressants—its not just an Alpha or Omega thing. He’s once caught a sniff of Lance’s pheromones left over from his Heat back at the Garrison, and Hunk will be the first to admit that _wow_ he can see the appeal. Lance smelt _good_ normally, but just that quick waft was like a shot of pure energy (nothing arousing, blessed be, the scent of post-Heat far outweighing it. Making it all _cuddly_ and stuff).

“Coran said they’re still a couple of Vargas out. Maybe closer to a Quintant even,” they shrugged, setting their screwdriver aside and stretching their arms up above their head. “Can’t say. Really just depends on who’s piloting I guess. We both know if its Keith then the accelerator is floored.”

 _Good old Keith,_ Hunk thought smiling down at the other Paladin. He missed the whole team being together—not that Allura didn’t make a great leg buddy too! Its just… sometimes he wonders how Lance is taking it. And now with his Heat and Keith’s looming arrival.

At least they’d have a team to form Voltron, but still.

Hunk would feel kinda, really, bad if suddenly Yellow didn’t want him to be their pilot anymore. He knows he’s not the best pilot, but he likes to think they’ve bonded. Y’know? He and Yellow are buddies.

But sometimes he thinks that between Lance and Keith, Red would choose Keith—she had piloted herself and chased him down. None of the other lions had done that. And Hunk _knows_ Lance, knows that beneath some of those smiles and bravado is a guy who’s hurting. Hunk doesn’t often bring it up, doesn’t want to constantly ask how his buddy is doing (and at other times he thinks he should… just in case) and remind him of things that are bothering him.

One of these days this _multi-piloting lions_ thing is going to bite one of them, and as much as Hunk doesn’t want it to happen, his money’s on Lance getting those feelings hurt.

-

Kissing Lotor, despite the initial hesitation on his part, was like… was like stepping out of the Ocean for the first time in _hours_. That weighted feeling as you were forced to face gravity all on your own again, the quiver in your steps as you fought to keep yourself balanced on shifting sand.

If Lance wasn’t already seated, he would fear that his legs would give out.

Kissing Lotor was so much more than Lance thought it would be. His lips soft against his, like they’ve never been chapped a day in his life, his hands heavy and hot on his hips. Lance pecked, parting and pressing in again, and then again, and again. Each one lasting just a little longer, lingering just a little further.

The other was quick to learn, pressing forward every time Lance made to part, his lips parting to drag a hint of teeth against Lance’s lips. The human groaning, a small little sound from the back of his throat, hands slipping into Lotor’s hair—so _soft_. Like silk. Not a tangle to be found.

Lance parted his lips, tongue slipping between those sharp teeth, caressing and curling behind the upper row of teeth. The Galra hummed, titling into his touch, pressing against him. His mouth warm, tongue oddly textured when it pressed to Lance’s. Caressing, teasing. For a first time kisser, Lance couldn’t find a fault in it.

He wasn’t over confident, wasn’t surging in and forcing his own tongue into Lance’s mouth, he wasn’t idle. Tentative, maybe, as he followed Lance’s lead. And when Lance moved to part, to catch his breath, Lotor nipped. Catching his bottom lip between those pointed teeth and gently grasping, pulling a gasp from him before releasing.

Lance could feel it; his fingers shook with it, his calves trembling. [And when he finally forced his eyes to flutter open, he could feel it in the air between them.](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/post/171880773827/istehlurvz-kicks-down-the-door-its-been-a-while) The high blush on both their cheeks as they looked at the other—Lance down, and those blue-violet eyes staring up. Lance wishes it was his Heat, would make him feel better if it was.

But it wasn’t—that heat in his belly, that race of his heart, the shortening of his breath. It all had nothing to do with his Heat. So, Lance did the only thing that could come to mind at that moment.

“Wow,” he sighed, leaning in to bump their foreheads together, sharing the same breath. The Galra hummed, hands sliding upwards, smoothing over his shirt. A wide purple palm pressing against the back of his neck, claws tickling under his jaw as he reeled him in for another kiss.

Lance will have to get him out of his armor soon—but later. Later was always good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://shadowsheyla.tumblr.com/)
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> [My Twitter](twitter.com/shadowsheyla)
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> Feel free to leave a message, talk to me a bit~ I get a lil lonely
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> (I tried editing as I went, but tomorrow I'll sit down and do a proper one. I was... too excited to wait lol)


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